Loneliness and Grumpy Children: the Things We Don’t Share on Insta

Tomatoes from my garden in the foreground. In the background a rotting tomato, likely pulled off the vine by the possum who has invaded the back yard. On the back of a chair, a fly — perhaps a representative from the band of flies who invaded our house while we were away. (see Exhibit B below).

I need some space to be real here. I’m back from an amazing trip to Colombia where I got to finally meet the people and see the places my beloved absolutely adores. I feel so privileged to have had that experience. And I loved documenting it and sharing it with my social media friends/family. But it wasn’t all Bougainvillea and sugar cane. There were some things that were difficult. For instance, I didn’t share about how terrifying it was after the car broke down; I didn’t write about how there were moments of sadness and loneliness not being able to connect with Francisca’s family due to my inability to speak their language.

And I didn’t document any of the struggle that the kids were having. Yes, they had fun. But for a big part of it they were uncomfortable. Their screen addiction and lack of good wifi made them miserable for much of the time.

Also, the way our summer went down ultimately meant they have had almost no downtime at home to just chill; between summer camps, camping in PA, Colombia, and vacations with their other parents, their summer will have come and gone and they will have spent almost no time at at home. Now, one might think this a positive thing, especially since we’ve all spent SO much time at home (and on screens) for the past, what — 18, 19 months? But I think this is precisely why being away like this has felt so difficult for the kids. We are all still dealing with the many layers of trauma that COVID brought into our lives, not to mention this past year of witnessing police brutality and a hostile political climate like we’ve never seen before in our lifetime. No wonder the kids just want to stay home!

While we (adults) have been so anxious to get ourselves and our children up and out of the house, to be with friends and family again, all of us — kids and adults alike, are simultaneously dealing with layers of traumatic experience right now. I know this. I feel it in my bones. And yet, I have to admit, that the whining and complaining I heard from the kids while we were away was tough to take and I was not always able to keep the perspective of where this was all coming from. I’m not proud of how I got frustrated with them and even scolded them for their whining and their grumpiness.

If trauma seems like too harsh a word to describe what we’ve all experienced over the last couple of years, I’d beg you to reconsider. Yes, for many of us, including myself, the slow down and the time at home was welcome and needed even as the isolation was weird, scary, and confusing. While the world rightfully recognizes the physical and emotional toll on essential workers, I worry that we’ve downplayed a lot of what was difficult about COVID for so many others.

For those of us living in COVID hotspots like my family was (in NYC) during the early months of 2020, we were terrified — for months the kids were afraid to go outside at all if there was any chance we’d have to come within a few feet of people, especially when we saw so many folks not wearing masks. We were wiping our groceries down with Clorox because too little was known at that point about how the virus was transmitted and we wanted to take every precaution. Kids were kept from seeing friends and extended family, their teachers and regular school routine. Our lives were turned upside down over night. Nothing about life felt normal for many many months. Not for the kids and not for us either.

I was scared. I began having panic attacks almost nightly. The crushing feeling of anxiety in my chest was physically painful to the point where I, for the first time in my life, began taking anxiety medication.

We were lonely. I watched my newsfeeds as so many friends and family posted about feeling afraid to leave the house, yet missing and longing for the company of people beyond our partners, sons, and daughters. For friends and family who were single, the isolation was almost unbearable. Let’s not so easily dismiss what it meant to miss the milestones — birthdays and graduations and summer camps and so much more. Let’s not pretend that all of this has had no lingering effects.

On top of this, we in my family followed the news closely — worrying about racial violence and political unrest that might touch our family or other people we love. The level of anxiety for people of color, including members of my own family, is one I can only imagine and do not pretend to fully grasp. It is also one that began long ago and will not end any time in the near future.

Almost exactly one year after COVID hit the U.S., COVID hit my family. Just as the vaccination was on our doorstep, the virus got us. We were all lucky that our cases were relatively mild. But being sick like that still felt frightening, especially as my partner’s oxygen levels dipped so low each night, eventually leading us to take her to the ER.

And we were the lucky ones! My family and the people closest to us did not lose jobs and did not suffer loss of life of loved ones as so many other people did.

We’re all just left reeling over the hardship others have faced and yet feeling grateful but also maybe a little guilty about our own good fortune.

As things in recent months have begun to go back to how they were in the before times, I don’t really know how to feel about any of it.

I’m both dreading and looking forward to going back to in person work two days a week in the fall. I’m happy that we’ve gotten to travel and see family again but the new variant and the COVID deniers scare me. Sending the kids into school buildings once again, masked or not, feels risky. There is just so much unknown. I’m trying to manage my own anxiety in order to be present and stable for the kids. It feels like more than a lot. It feels like trauma.

And yet, it feels like no one is really talking much about this. Or am I just missing those conversations somehow?

The last two years have been rough on all of us. This past summer has been especially hard on my family. Today I find myself trying to sit with all of this — and I guess trying to write it all down. On top of all the things, I’m also having some mysterious health related issues; I returned home with about 50 intensely itchy bug bites on my legs and arms, and found a literal fly infestation in my house; I’ve got so much prepping to do before the start of the semester, and … oh yes, I still need to work on that damn dissertation.

Exhibit A. the most itchiest bug bites on my legs (visible to the right is the ratty carpet in my bedroom)

Exhibit B. Fly infestation in my house (completely unrelated to Exhibit A).

I’m saying all of this now because some people have said that I put my whole life on social media, and some people have also recently commented that my life looks wonderful and romantic. It is those things, but like everyone’s life, mine is complicated — filled with both joy and overwhelming struggles, filled with difficult and amazing things at the same time. And there is a lot that I don’t and won’t ever put here.

Exhibit C. Rotting tomatoes also likely torn off by the possum.

Right now, I’m trying to remember to breathe, and to cry, and to feed myself with good food and good friends. I have a therapeutic practice I began last year that has been helpful. I have a community of good people who inspire me. I have a house and a garden and people that I love and love me. I know I am lucky in many ways. And I’m grateful for what I have.

This haul of blackberries has delicious sweet juicy ones, and some dried up or moldy ones too.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed right now too, you’re not alone. Let yourself acknowledge the difficulties you’ve faced and may still be facing, and reach out if you need a friend. We do no one any good, least of all ourselves, if we pretend that things are not sometimes hard, if we present ourselves and our lives as uncomplicated and smooth at all times. That is not the truth. And I have no interest in presenting such a skewed picture of my life.